“I assume you asked him that question?”
“Pfft. More than once. Every time, he deflected, or stonewalled me or turned it around, making me feel crazy. I swear, at the end, I didn’t even recognize myself. You know me, Beck. I’m not some simpering weeping willow. With him, I became… I don’t know. Not me.”
He shifted on the bed, toward me.
“What exactly is a simpering weeping willow?”
I smiled, despite myself.
“I have no idea,” I admitted. “I don’t even know up from down anymore. Since high school, I’ve had a plan. Life goals. And it was going better than expected. Now I have no idea what I want. Actually,” I amended. “I do know one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t want a boyfriend. Ever again. Men suck. Big time.”
Beck cleared his throat.
“Sorry, but not really. You would make a horrible boyfriend, and you know it. You don’t count.”
He was serious again. Intense, even. “I don’t cheat.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course you don’t. I know that.”
It was one of the things he hated most about his parents’ marriage. First his dad cheated. Then his mom, in retaliation. And then they divorced. Were with other people. Got remarried. Cheated more, or at least Beck suspected as much. Honestly, they could be on a reality show of their own, the two of them.
“So why don’t I count?”
“Because you don’t suck. But also because we’ll never be boyfriend and girlfriend. Actually, none of my male friends count. Only the single ones I don’t know.”
“So.” He stuck out his hand, as if counting on his fingers. “Single men suck. But I don’t count. I assume single men you would never date, besides me, don’t count either.”
“Exactly. Like your friend Cole. He’s much too serious for me.”
“I think I’m following.”
I leaned forward and swatted his hand down. “Stop it. I’m serious.”
Laughing, he relented, pretending to wipe the smile from his face. “I’m being serious now.”
“For like three point eight seconds?”
I counted silently. Waiting. One. Two. Three.
He grinned.
“You’re a goofball.”
“A hungry goofball. Your mom said something about eggs.”
“With cheese?”
“You know it.”
Beck stood, reaching out for my hand. I took it, glad to have that off my chest. Two people knew now, and if I wanted to hide out for a few days before telling the world, at least I’d have some company.
“I should have called you sooner,” I said, letting go of him as my feet hit the ground.
“Yes, you should have.”
